Things to Come
by Padfoot Reincarnated
Summary: The soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul. DavidJonathan slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Update: New Author's Note:**

**Wow. This story is, um, a slight but more controversial than I expected. Alright. Guys, it's just a story. It truly is. I did not do that much research on it, and I'm not saying it's necessarily true. If you get offended when a teenage girl writes a story about your Bible, then you...well, you just SHOULDN'T. If you do not like the idea of David and Jonathan, two characters from the Bible, in a romantic relationship with each other, than you might not want to read this. That said, if you DO read it, and choose to review, it'd be nice if you stopped beating each other up in your reviews. I'm open to criticism, but the reviewboad is for REVIEWING, not arguing. I'm fine with condescending, insulting comments about myself, but hey: remember it was your choice to read it. That said, if you are open to the idea of Bibleslash (squee! Isn't it lovely?), then here is the story.**

Jonathan had hated David ever since he had first heard of him.

Or rather, he had hated the idea of him.

He had heard rumors in the court, and among the peasants, that David had been anointed by God to overthrow his father. He formed an idea in his mind of David—short and fat, certainly, with weak legs and arms. He pictured hair turned gray and eyes that flashed red. He imagined flabby, veiny arms and rotten teeth.

His father, Saul, of course, would hear none of it.

"I have met with him," he said firmly, "And I believe he will be a great aid to us."

The night before David was to arrive at court, he went to bed with a sick feeling in his stomach, and his dagger close at hand.

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When Jonathan first saw David, he had no idea who he was looking at.

He turned to his servant, Samuel. "Who is the boy that sits beside my father?" he asked quietly, not for one instant moving his eyes from the unfamiliar youth.

Samuel's eyes widened in surprise. "Don't you know, sir? That is David, son of Jesse."

Jonathan frowned. "Certainly not," he said.

Samuel nodded. "I am sure of it."

Jonathan decided to accept the explanation for the moment, and allowed his eyes to wander back to the boy.

David was tall, though not abnormally so. His hair cascaded around his face and over his neck; tight, black ringlets. He had elegant features; a high forehead and thin eyebrows. His mouth was small and delicate; bright red. Every so often as he was eating, his tongue darted out to catch some scrap. His eyes were dark brown, almost black; but they were also bright and eager. They had a certain intelligence to them; and it was obvious that he heard and understood what was being said to him. His face, though obviously young, had the start of small lines around the eyes and mouth.

David happened to glance towards him, and Jonathan realized he was staring. He met David's gaze for a few seconds, before letting his eyes fall to his plate.

But he had no need to cover his ears, and he could hear David's voice quite clearly. He had heard the boy was a musician, and it seemed that perhaps the rumors were true. He had an enchanting, melodic voice; and it seemed to Jonathan that he was on the edge of song.

He chanced, after a few minutes, to look back up. David was sipping from a cup of wine. It stained his lips. Jonathan imagined tasting it, allowing the bitter liquid to coat his tongue and mouth. He imagined sharing it with David; quenching his thirst with David and needing nothing other than David.

A shudder went through him at the thought, and a not-unpleasant warmth began spreading through his stomach.

He drank deeply from his cup of wine before turning back to his food.

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He did not see David the next day.

The day after that, however, he was rewarded ten-fold.

He was making his way to his father's chambers. But before he was halfway there, he heard something he had never heard before. He quickened his pace.

Standing outside his father's door, he heard the sounds of a lyre. He had never before been fond of music; it distracted him from his thoughts.

He knew that it must be David playing; he could not imagine another sounding like this. The music enveloped him, and he felt that he should sing; for he knew of no other way to express his joy. And yet at the same time it was not necessary to sing; he felt as if his spirit had left his body; he felt he was everywhere and no where at once. He _was _singing, every fiber of his body was carried along with David's voice, high and lyrical, though he made no noise.

When the song was finished, he could barely recall it. He could not have hummed the tune, nor sang the words. But he could almost grasp the feeling it had given him; the belief that he could do anything.

He fell back against the wall, tilting his face towards the ceiling, and closed his eyes. He allowed the memory of the music to carry him for a while.

When he opened his eyes, the world was silent, and David was standing before him; observing him calmly. His eyes drifted across Jonathan's body, from his head to his feet. Jonathan was suddenly conscious of the way the breeze from the window filtered through his robes and brushed along his skin. The hairs on his arms stood on end, and he trembled under David's gaze.

Then, almost before he had time to register what was happening, David was gone, retreating down the hall. He had not spoken a word.

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Jonathan did not realize he had not eaten his meal until the plates were cleared and the servants looked at him oddly. Then he realized, to his surprised, that he was as hungry as he had been when the meal had begun.

He had spent the meal looking at David.

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Jonathan's mornings began to fall into a routine of sorts.

After he woke, he would attend the morning meal as normal. If David was gone, he would eat a little; but mostly he stared at the empty seat and worried. And if David was there, he would not eat at all, but admire him as subtly as he could.

Then he would stay outside his father's chambers and listen to David play. He would leave before he was seen.

They had not yet spoken.

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Today it was different.

Jonathan felt his senses were heightened; every touch and taste was sharp on his skin. His food was bitter on his tongue, and every voice that was not David's caused him to wince.

Today when he looked at David, he saw David looking back.

Their eyes met as David turned to speak to Jonathan's father, and, though he continued speaking, his eyes did not leave Jonathan's. Jonathan remembered for the first time in a long time that they said God saw through this boy; and wondered if it were true.

Jonathan would not have doubted it; at that moment he could not have taken his eyes from David's if he had wanted to.

But he didn't want to. David's eyes were wide and beautiful; framed by dark, heavy lashes. Jonathan thought that they should be preserved forever; and yet he almost wished that David would close them. He did not want anyone else to see them. He felt that they were his.

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He was not at all surprised when he ran into David later that evening.

He had retreated to his gardens, and was calmly relaxing beneath a tree whose blossoms had just burst into full color the day before; its branches were heavy with bright red flowers and the air was filled with the scent of pollen and nectar.

He heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see who was approaching. It was David. His feet were bare and stained with dirt, and when he spoke his voice was much softer than Jonathan had imagined.

"You've been watching me," David said calmly; not to accuse, merely to state something that was true.

Jonathan tilted his head. "I have," he acknowledged.

"I know you are the king's son," David continued, "But I don't know anything else. What is your name?"

"Jonathan," he said; and his tongue felt too large and clumsy for his mouth. "And I know you are David."

David smiled. "Your father is a kind man," he said. "But I wish he had introduced me to you."

Jonathan felt his lips move into the shape of a smile. "Well, we are introduced now," he said, "So come and sit with me."

David seemed to have been waiting for the invitation. He hurried to join David, and their arms brushed as he seated himself beside him on the bench.

Jonathan inhaled deeply to steady himself, but instead found himself even dizzier. David smelled like the pollen that hung in the sky, only more so. He smelled like someone who has lived outside; like the ground after a rain; like bathing in the river and eating wild berries. He smelled like youth and beauty and he was everything Jonathan wanted.

Later, he would not remember much of what they conversed about. He only remembered that David was beside him, and that he had never been so much himself.

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The friendship with David was something he easily accepted.

Much of his day continued the same. David's presence at meals continued to dictate what he ate or didn't eat. He continued to listen to David play; and he did not go out of his way to run into him.

But somewhere along the way it was agreed between them that they would meet, every night after dinner, in Jonathan's garden. Sometimes David would already be waiting for Jonathan when he arrived; sometimes Jonathan would have to wait. He found he didn't mind so much; for David always came.

One night they spoke of David's old home. It was something Jonathan had never really considered before; it was hard to remember that David had not always been there.

"Do you miss it much?" Jonathan asked.

David laughed, and Jonathan thought that there could not possibly be a better way to spend his time than making David laugh. "Of course I do," he said, "It's all I've ever known."

"What was it like?" Jonathan asked, watching David tilt his head back.

David closed his eyes. "I suppose you wouldn't think much of it…but I loved it. I spent the entire day with the sheep. I was alone, usually, because my father couldn't afford to hire another shepherd, and my older brothers were always so busy. But I liked it. I learned so much about the earth. And I always had my lyre and flute with me. I can play songs that mean the wind; or the first rain after a drought; or the stars after a hot, dry day. I would sleep outside a lot of the time. I didn't like it much at first, but after a while I realized how amazing it was. You can't ever really see the sky during the day."

"Didn't you ever get lonely?" Jonathan wondered.

David cracked his eyes open. "No," he says, "Not really. I missed my father sometimes, and my brothers. But I never really felt alone. And yet," he continued shyly, averting his eyes from Jonathan's. "I'm sure that if I were to go back to that life now, I _would _be quite lonely. It seems so selfish, doesn't it? But I would miss you too much."

Jonathan wondered if it was possible to be too happy. He grabbed David's hand and pressed it to his own. "I am glad to hear that," he said. "Because I don't think I could be without you, either."

David smiled, and tilted his head to rest on Jonathan's shoulder. "You are too kind," he murmured.

Jonathan wished he could sing like David could, or play an instrument. He could not think of a better way to be happy.

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Jonathan continued to listen to David play everyday. But he grew jealous that his father could hear, too. He wanted to be the only one that David played for.

"David," he said one evening as they lingered alone in the garden. "I want you to play for me. Only me." He hesitated. "Will you?"

David was lying on his back in the dirt, his head at Jonathan's feet. "Of course," he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. If he felt any surprise, he did not show it. "I would love to. Shall I come to your chambers tomorrow after dinner?"

Jonathan nodded. "I would like nothing better."

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In preparation for David, Jonathan had servants clean his rooms. They were dusted several times, and the floor waxed. Everything was put in its place.

Since they had begun their meetings in the garden, Jonathan had tried to avoid looking at David at meals. He had felt sure that if he did, his feelings would be evident in his eyes, written for everyone to see. Tonight he felt David watching him. He glanced up once, and their eyes met. Jonathan's father noticed, and frowned.

Jonathan finished eating before David did, and hurried to his chambers. Everything was ready; he had brought anything David could possibly want. He had even prepared wine and bread in case he should grow hungry.

He paced restlessly across his chambers, waiting for David. He knew it had not been long, and yet he began to worry that David was not coming. He knew that David's music was something precious.

Perhaps he did not have the right to ask for it.

Perhaps David would not give it to him.

But he had worried in vain. David came, of course, as he always did. He held his lyre in one hand and his flute in the other. "Hello, Jonathan," he said softly. "Do you still want to hear me play?" He seemed almost shy, and it was catching.

"If you will play for me," Jonathan answered, and it was almost a question.

David nodded, and met Jonathan's gaze for the first time. His eyes were wide and his lashes dark around them.

"Would you like to sit on the couch?" Jonathan offered, gesturing with his hand.

David nodded, and was seated. Jonathan began to feel self-conscious standing, and seated himself on his bed, swinging his feet back and forth.

When David began to play, he forgot that he even _had _a self at all.

David played his lyre, and he sang as he played. He sang of light and wind and rain and love, but the words were not important. What was important was David's voice, and the way it could mean those things without saying anything. David could have sung about what he had eaten for dinner; and it still would have meant beauty and love and everything Jonathan did not have words for.

The angels in heaven could not have sung more beautifully.

Jonathan did not realize that David had stopped until he felt a hand on his face. "You are crying," David said softly, and his breath was warm and sweet.

"I want to," Jonathan said; and David went on playing.

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When David left that night, Jonathan was utterly drained. He had played for hours, and then stayed for another hour, talking with Jonathan.

Jonathan fell to sleep that night without reading, which was something he had never done before. That night he dreamed of David.

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The next morning at breakfast, Jonathan could not think. He heard only a dull sort of buzzing in his ears, and he could see nothing before his eyes but David.

He did hear one thing, though.

"I was looking for you last night, David," his father said. "I wanted to hear you play."

David averted his eyes. "I apologize, sir," he said stiffly. "I will be happy to play for you today. Whenever you want." And his voice was so terribly different from what Jonathan now knew it could be that he could hardly bear to listen to it.

Jonathan did, however, listen to David's usual morning performance for his father. And this time he was able to note the contrast between the way David played for his father and the way he played for him. For Saul, David played with his heart. For Jonathan, he played with his soul.

He felt no more need for jealously.

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David sought Jonathan out after his performance for the king.

"He wants me to play for him tonight after dinner," David said anxiously. "I think he must know that I performed for you last night. I think I must play for him."

Jonathan shrugged. It was of little difference to him. No matter how much David played for Saul, he would not play as he played for Jonathan.

"I can come to you afterwards, if you wish," David said, searching Jonathan's face for any hints of anger.

Jonathan laughed. "I am not as cruel as that, my friend," he said. "You must sleep sometime."

David smiled and pressed his hand to Jonathan's. "Tomorrow, then," he said firmly.

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Jonathan had little opportunity to see David that day, or the next. In fact, he spoke to him only once more before his performance that evening.

Jonathan once again finished eating before David did, and hurried to his chambers to wait. He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering if David would be able to keep his promise, or if he would again be detained by Saul.

David, in fact, arrived only a few minutes after Jonathan did. This time he carried only his lyre.

"I have written a song for you," David said shyly. "Would you like me to play it?"

"Of course," Jonathan said simply, and closed his eyes.

When David played, Jonathan felt as if he were floating. He had no substance, no body. He had only David and his music.

He heard words pledging ever-lasting friendship, words promising love and happiness. He heard descriptions of beauty and pure joy. He heard David, and felt it.

"Do you like it?" David asked when he stopped.

"Did you know you are beautiful?" Jonathan asked in reply.

David bowed his head, and tried to hide the red creeping across his face.

Jonathan stood and walked to his friend. "Look at me, David," he commanded, and David raised his eyes from the ground.

Jonathan pulled his sword from his belt. "This is yours," he said, placing it at David's feet. He then took his bow from his shoulder. "And this also." He continued silently, stripping himself of his robes and his other garments and placing them at David's feet. "Everything I have belongs to you; I love you as though you were my own soul."

David met his eyes calmly. Then, slowly, his eyes began to travel down the length of Jonathan's body. Jonathan did not shudder under his gaze, but kept his face fixed with David's.

"You should eat more," David said softly. And without speaking again, he removed his own sword and bow, and placed them at Jonathan's feet. Then, his every movement quite deliberate, he removed his own robes and garments. "And as long as I live," he said. "Everything I own is yours, also, for I shall never love another as I love you."

Jonathan allowed his eyes to travel the length of David's body. He was strong, and his skin had the darkness of one that had spent too much time outside. A thin layering of black hair trailed down his chest. Jonathan thought he looked exquisite.

Jonathan took a step forward and took David's hands in his. They were warm and dry, and their fingers locked together like puzzle pieces. Jonathan met David's eyes with his own and then pressed David's palm to his lips. David closed his eyes and moved even closer.

When Jonathan raised his head, it was to find David's lips, ready to meet his.

David kissed the way he sang; it was slow and soft, and it made Jonathan feel as if he could do anything. But for now, he was content to relax against David, and allow David to press him back, back, back; until he was pressed between the wall and David's body.

Every inch of him was touching every inch of David. He thought that he should be cold, but David seemed to know how to keep him warm, and no inch of him was touching the air for very long.

Jonathan thought that even God himself could not create a more perfect paradise than this.

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**Read and review, tell me what you think. It'd be awesome if you could stick to what you thought about the actual writing, rather than how much the idea of Bibleslash disgusts you. Just a hint. But if you feel the need to do that, by all means go ahead.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright. I don't know if anyone is reading this; if so, thanks for having the openmindedness to make it to chapter two. I hope you enjoy it! I've also decided to expand it to three parts, this is part two. To my anonymous reviewer, since you left no email address: I'm not sure whether you read the fic, first of all. I respect that you disagree with my opinion about Jonathan and David, but I'm not sure how you came to that conclusion. Some quotes that I find particularly convincing:**

**_The soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul. _**

**_18:3 Then Jonathan and David made a covenant, because he loved him as his own soul. _**

**_18:4 And Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that was upon him, and gave it to David, and his garments, even to his sword, and to his bow, and to his girdle. _**

**_Jonathan Saul's son delighted much in David_**

**_20:3 And David sware moreover, and said, Thy father certainly knoweth that I have found grace in thine eyes_**

**_20:4 Then said Jonathan unto David, Whatsoever thy soul desireth, I will even do it for thee. _**

**_20:17 And Jonathan caused David to swear again, because he loved him: for he loved him as he loved his own soul._**

**_20:30 Then Saul's anger was kindled against Jonathan, and he said unto him, Thou son of the perverse rebellious woman, do not I know that thou hast chosen the son of Jesse to thine own confusion, and unto the confusion of thy mother's nakedness? 20:31 For as long as the son of Jesse liveth upon the ground, thou shalt not be established, nor thy kingdom. Wherefore now send and fetch him unto me, for he shall surely die. _**

**And especially**

**_20:41 And as soon as the lad was gone, David arose out of a place toward the south, and fell on his face to the ground, and bowed himself three times: and they kissed one another, and wept one with another, until David exceeded._**

**Anyway...here's chapter two, if you like it, please review!**

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He woke up the next morning with David beside him.

It was late; the sun seemed to have risen long ago. But Jonathan could see no reason to move. David's arms were around him, and his face was pressed into David's neck.

He felt a movement, and tipped his head up so that his eyes met David's. David smiled gently at him, and kissed his hair.

No; Jonathan had no problem with staying in bed a little later today.

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Neither he nor David left the room until early afternoon; just as the midday meal was being served.

His father frowned as they entered together. Jonathan noted it, and tried to subtly move a few inches away from David.

They were both silent as they took their everyday places at the table. But, contrary to how they normally behaved, neither of them could keep their eyes away from each other. David's eyes met Jonathan's even as he spoke to others, Jonathan tried not to smile.

"I could not find you this morning, David," Saul said, glaring bitterly between his musician and his son. "Dozens searched for you. You missed your performance for me."

For the first time, David's eyes fell from Jonathan's. He stared at his food, his face bright red.

"Where were you?" Saul asked, his voice quietly menacing.

David's eyes were terrified as they flashed back to Jonathan's. "I was with you son," he answered finally, "He was demonstrating his skills on the lyre."

Jonathan had, in fact, been taught how to play only the basic tunes. It could hardly be called skills.

"I see," Saul said quietly. "Very well."

Jonathan caught one glimpse of David's face, relieved. And then he turned away to avoid his father. He did not see David again that day.

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The next morning Jonathan was woken by David shaking him awake.

"Hello," Jonathan said. But then he saw the whiteness of David's face, and the wideness of his eyes. He touched his hand and fell silent.

"Your father has offered me your sister, Merob," David said. His voice was shaky, and Jonathan could feel him shudder. He pulled David to him, and David pressed his face into Jonathan's shoulder. "I cannot marry her," he said, his voice muffled. Jonathan rubbed his back gently.

He kissed David's hair, and then a thought occurred to him. He raised his head and laughed, pulling back so that he could meet David's face. "She is already married," he said, laughing. "She is promised to another man."

David stared blankly at him for a minute, then gave a shaky laugh. "I could not have done it," he said miserably.

Jonathan studied him for a minute, and put a hand on either side of his face. "David," he said urgently, "If my father makes another offer, you must take it."

David shook his head, and tried to push Jonathan's hand away. "No," he said. "I _can't_."

Jonathan's eyes grew dark. "That would be the greatest insult you make him," he said seriously. "He would have you killed."

David shook his head desperately and pushed his lips roughly against Jonathan's. "I would rather spend an eternity in hell if it meant being with you, than to leave you for one moment here on earth," he said rebelliously

Jonathan felt tears welling up behind his eyes, and rested his head against David's shoulder.

"I would do the same," he whispered softly.

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At breakfast the next morning, Jonathan was carefully to watch his fathers and sisters.

Saul was not eating; only casting furious eyes alternately on him and David. Jonathan avoided his gaze, and pretended not to see him.

Merob was carefully avoiding looking at David at all. He glanced at her once; and she was sure to be speaking with another woman.

Michal, however—Michal worried him. She stared at David openly, and her face glowed red whenever he happened to turn her way.

Jonathan felt his stomach turn mutinously. He could not imagine anything good coming from this.

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The next day, his suspicions were confirmed.

David informed him, as he made his way into Jonathan's chambers late at night, that Saul had given him another offer of marriage; this time for Michal.

"And I am going to tell him no," David said mutinously.

Every fiber of Jonathan screamed agreement with this idea. He did not want to think of David with anyone but himself. But he said, "You must."

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The next morning, he sought his father out for the first time in weeks.

"I am overjoyed to hear of my sister's engagement to David," he said, his voice low and dull.

"David has not accepted," his father said suspiciously. "And if he _did_, I am sure that it would bring _you _no pleasure." His voice was pained, as he continued. "I am not blind, my son."

Jonathan decided to ignore the last half of this statement. "David has told me of his intentions to accept," he said, barely able to force the words past his throat. "And you must ignore him if he says no. He is not serious."

Saul's face slowly moved into a smile. "So," he said, "It seems we will have a wedding after all."

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It rained that night.

It had not rained for weeks.

The sky was dark, and Jonathan went to bed early. He did not know whether he should expect David. He expected him, anyway.

He was not wrong. It was past midnight when David threw his door open and flung himself into Jonathan's arms, shaking horribly. He sobbed furiously, clutching Jonathan as though his life depended on it. Jonathan felt helpless to comfort him; the most he could do was rub him gently and whisper nonsense into his ear.

David was beyond grief-stricken; he was hysterical.

His fingernails dug into Jonathan's arms, and he bit back sobs on Jonathan's shoulders. His legs fell out from beneath him, and Jonathan struggled to support his weight.

The first thing he said after he could speak again was, "You have asked me to do the impossible. I cannot marry her."

Jonathan thought that as long as David could sing, there could be nothing impossible.

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The festivities of David and Michal's wedding were more elaborate than anything in Jonathan's memory. The halls were hung with curtains of rich silk. The food had been specially prepared, and they spent the day feasting.

Well, most of them did.

Jonathan left after a few hours. He did not think he could bear to watch anymore. His sister's face was bright and glowing, and her smile was radiant. Every so often, she touched David's hand. Jonathan saw the way David's face darkened; the despair that was wrought across his features. Jonathan knew that if not for him, David's wedding day would be a happy one.

David's wine glass was filled again and again, and he finally almost smiled.

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Jonathan returned to the festivities a few hours later. He couldn't afford to draw suspicion.

The torches and candles were lit, and the hall smelled of incense. Girls were dancing as onlookers laughed.

Jonathan saw David sitting beside Michal. He was nearly asleep, and everyone in a while he started up with a burst of hysterical laughter. Michal had draped herself across his body, and was rubbing his shoulders with her hands that were too small and too delicate.

He sat beside his father. "What an excellent match you have made, father," he said, his stomach burning with jealously.

His father smiled at him for the first time in weeks. "David will make a good husband," he said.

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But David did not go to his wife that night.

He stumbled into Jonathan's room in the early hours of the morning. Jonathan, who had been struggling on the edge of sleep, snapped awake instantly. "David?" he whispered uncertainly.

He heard a crash as David tripped into a wall.

"S'me," David slurred, lurching forward. His hand brushed feebly against Jonathan's chest; and Jonathan pulled him to sit on the bed. "Came fro…praty. Parfme. Party. Came from tha."

Jonathan's heart stung him. "You have to go to Michal," he said, trying to stay firm.

David shook his head and kissed Jonathan clumsily. "A'ready _toll_ you," he said. "Cat'n…can't…do it."

He fell still on Jonathan's shoulder and breathed deeply. He was asleep.

Jonathan shook his head and gave a wan smile. He slipped David into bed, and climbed in beside him.

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The next morning, Michal's face was ashen with worry. She relaxed visibly when she saw David enter, and tensed again when she saw Jonathan beside him. Mostly, though, she looked relieved. She hurried to them, and wrapped her arms around David's neck. He turned away and would not even look at her as she pushed his hair from his face.

Jonathan almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

"I was worried," he heard her whisper. "No one could find you."

She spoke with an intimacy that Jonathan did not think should be allowed.

Luckily, David seemed to agree as well. He brushed her aside and made his way to eat.

Jonathan spared one, pitying glance for his young sister. She stood alone, people streaming around her. Her mouth was slightly open, and she looked absolutely shattered. She looked exactly like he felt.

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Later, when David was playing for Saul, Jonathan decided to seek out Michal.

He found her in her chambers, surrounded by her servant girls and listening to a story being read allowed.

"Michal," he said. She snapped her head around to look at him, and her face hardened.

"Jonathan," she said, resigned.

"Listen," he said, "I wanted to make sure…I wanted to know that you were okay."

She tilted her head back and gave a shriek of laughter. "Why wouldn't I be alright?" she demanded harshly. "I was married yesterday, and my husband is…_my husband _is…" She stared at him angrily and shook her head.

He looked at the ground, and then met her eyes again. "Michal," he said. "My sister. Do you remember when we were younger? We always used to play those silly games together. Remember that?"

She nodded slowly, and her eyes filled with tears.

"David is a good man," he said, and wrapped an arm around her.

"I _know_," she said, her voice pained. "That's why this is so awful."

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They slipped into a sort of fragile routine; Jonathan, David, and Michal.

David continued his private performances for Jonathan. They never stopped their talks in the garden.

But every night, David went into Michal's room with her. He stayed for a few hours, not speaking with her, and then left for Jonathan's room.

He did not so much as kiss her.

Jonathan hovered nervously around his father, but Michal never said anything. She talked freely with David at meals, but something kept her from naming any suspicions about his time with Jonathan. Perhaps it was shame, perhaps it was love.

Jonathan had never been so grateful to her.

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"David," Jonathan said once, as David laid beside him in bed. "Don't you ever feel guilty about Michal?"

David rolled over on his side to face him. "Yes," he said, "Sometimes. But I have you."

Jonathan smiled and kissed him. "You do," he promised. They lay in silence for a few minutes, and then Jonathan said, "Do you think she's sad?"

David closed his eyes. "I don't want to think about it," he said.

Jonathan wrapped his arms around David's bare chest, and they both went to sleep.

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Jonathan supposed he should have known better than to think it could last forever.

He knew something was wrong when David came into his room at three in the afternoon, his face blood red and sweaty.

"Your father tried to kill me," he panted.

"You have to leave," Jonathan said, his heart sinking.

David shook his head futilely.

"I'll go get Michal," Jonathan said. "You can hide in my room."

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When he told Michal, she turned white and clutched his arm.

"What will we do?" she asked, trembling.

"David is hiding in my room," he said. "But tonight, he will come to your room. You must help him climb out the window, and in the morning, you must tell father he is ill."

"I will," she said, and hesitated. "Jonathan," she said. "I know that my husband does not love me. But you are my brother. And I love you both."

Jonathan smiled gratefully at her and touched her arm. "I know," he said. "I'm sorry."

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Jonathan hurried to Michal's chamber late that night to see David off.

He found both David and Michal crouching on the floor, knotting long, white sheets together to form a clumsy sort of rope. David sprang to his feet when he saw him, and moved across the room almost in a single bound.

"Jonathan," he said. His voice was strong and untrembling; but his face was grey, and dark circles rimmed his eyes.

Jonathan glanced briefly at his sister, and wrapped his arms around David. David shook his head, and pressed their lips together. Jonathan saw Michal's mouth tighten, and tears leaked from her eyes; though she furiously brushed them away. He closed his eyes and pretended that it was just he and David.

And when they finally, reluctantly, parted, Michal was on the other side of the room; calmly opening the window. It was as if it'd never happened.

"Come, David," she said, tossing one end of the homemade rope out the window. "You must leave."

David grasped Jonathan's hand and held it firmly as he made his way across the room. He squeezed it one last time and let go.

Jonathan and Michal held the rope tightly as David made his way down. He reached up and touched Jonathan's hand briefly, his face white. "I will see you again," he said quietly, with complete confidence. Jonathan nodded; and David slid down the rest of the way. Within seconds, he was gone.

Jonathan closed his eyes slowly, and then turned to face his sister.

"Let's start unraveling these sheets," she said grimly.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Whew! That took a lot longer than I would have liked--busy week. Anonymous reviewer, I continue to disagree with you. From what I found before I wrote this, many biblical scholars interpret the Jonathan/David story as a love story. I don't know what your viewpoint or background is, so I'll just leave it at that. **

**Anyway. This is probably the last chapter, though I might do another, shorter fic chronicling the last few times David and Jonathan meet, and when David reclaims Michal. And when Jonathan dies and stuff--so dramatic! But it would definitely be a separate fic.**

**Anyway, I'd appreciate any feedback you might have on this, whether positive or negative. It's been a neat experience, but I don't exactly know anyone who wants to beta-Bibleslash. **

**Without any further delays...**

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Jonathan did not sleep that night. Just as the sun rose, he finally gave up trying, and headed to his sister's chambers.

She was awake, as well, but Jonathan saw that there was still something in her bed. Michal herself was standing facing the bed, her back to the door and her hands on her hips.

"Michal," he said softly.

She turned to him, smiling slightly. "Convincing enough?" she asked, gesturing to the lump in her bed. "It's David," she said, by way of explanation. "I stole him from my garden; and now he's sick, poor thing."

Jonathan was now able to recognize the statue his sister had tucked into her bed. It was wrapped tightly in sheets, and its head was buried in pillows of goat hair. It almost looked like a person, if you didn't look too closely.

"Perfect," Jonathan said, and wrapped his arm around his sister's shoulders.

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Jonathan and Michal decided to enter breakfast about ten minutes apart that morning in order to avoid suspicion. Jonathan decided to go first, while Michal staying in her room and pretended to attend to "David."

Jonathan noticed his father's eyes widen in surprise as he entered alone, but he kept his head high and pretended he didn't notice. It felt distinctly odd, not having David beside him. He had hardly been without him at all for months, and he had grown used to feeling David's hand brushing against his as they walked, and feeling his breath blow light and warm across his neck. He had not noticed how alone he had been before David.

He sat across from Saul. It was not his usual seat; but he fully expected to be interrogated, and he didn't want his father to think he had anything to hide. Besides, if Michal staying in her usual place, it would mean sitting beside him.

Saul looked at him with narrowed eyes. "And where is your dear friend this morning?" he asked with an acid tinged voice.

Jonathan raised his eyebrows in feigned ignorance. "You mean David?" he replied calmly. "I'm not sure. With Michal, I suppose, as she is his wife."

Saul chuckled as though Jonathan had told a good joke. "You know very well I mean David," he said. "You are never without him; he spends more time with you than with Michal."

Jonathan simply went back to eating, dipping a piece of bread in olive oil. "I suppose you'll have to ask her," he said, a note of finality in his voice.

Saul asked him nothing else. Jonathan felt as though he had achieved a victory of sorts.

When Michal entered, no hint of fear was on her face. She carried herself regally, her handmaiden trailing behind her. She took her usual seat; beside Jonathan and across from Saul.

"Hello, Father," she said lightly, "Jonathan."

Saul reached across the table and stopped her hand before it reached her food. "Where is your husband?" he asked suspiciously.

An expression of sadness worked it's way onto her face as she said, "I'm afraid he's not feeling well. He's still in bed."

Saul's face once again showed surprise. "You mean he went to bed with you?" he asked.

Jonathan had never heard his father be so terribly blunt. His chest constricted, and it took everything he had to avoid looking at Michal. But he saw her out of the corner of his eye all the same. Her face was scarlet, and real tears stung her eyes. She was looking miserably at her brother. "Of course," she said unconvincingly. "Why shouldn't he? He is my husband."

The lie, Jonathan knew, was an utter waste of time. People knew that David had not taken a real attraction to his wife—though Jonathan was relieved that they did not seem to know the reason for that. The servants responsible for tending to Michal's chamber were bound to notice things, and gossip spread quickly. Even so, it was a blow to hear it said so bluntly, and from Saul of all people.

Jonathan was certain that he had not heard the last of this.

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But, at least for this afternoon, he was safe.

He spent the afternoon in his garden. He lay down beneath the tree where he had met David. Some of its blossoms had fallen to the ground, and the petals caught in his hair. They smelled faintly of David.

The rest were rotting on the branches. The petals were drooping, turning gray and wilting. They smelled of old fruit and dirty water.

There was one, however, that was still fresh and still on the tree. Jonathan plucked it and pressed it into his palm. He was almost able to pretend it was David's hand.

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Jonathan had grown quite good at pretending.

He had pretended that he would be able to go on with David forever.

He had pretended that Michal would not mind.

He had pretended that he would be able to live without David.

And now, quite suddenly, it was all falling apart.

Because he could not ignore the smug way his father stared at him when they crossed paths.

He could not ignore Michal's pallid face, or the creases of worry across her forehead.

But hardest of all to ignore was the empty space beside him in bed when he woke up every morning.

And so he formulated other fanciful thoughts.

He lay on David's favorite bench, and pretended that if he reached out his hand, David would catch it with his own.

He pretended that the music he heard floating from his father's quarters was David—a little out of practice, a little scared, but finally back.

He pretended that they were both dead; floating through the stars together.

He did not know which he wished was true.

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If Jonathan had learned anything, it was that nothing lasts forever.

And so it was with the strange sort of peace that had existed since David had gone into hiding.

For two days Michal had carried on her charade. Saul had accepted David's illness.

But on the third morning, he was furious. He waited until Michal and Jonathan were both seated for breakfast before ordering servants to bring David in on his bed. "And then," he told them, as the servants hurried out the door, "I shall kill him in front of you. I know of the deception my own children have tried to make."

Jonathan thought he would be sick. Michal gripped his wrist, and her knuckles were white.

They endured a few minutes of this terrible suspense before it was replaced by certain knowledge. A servant ran back into the room, shouting. "King Saul, King Saul!" he called. "David is not in his room, sir! We found only a stone idol and pillows beneath the blankets."

Michal swayed sideways, nearly fainting. Jonathan clutched her shoulder.

Saul stood and moved across the room to his children.

"Why have you deceived me like this?" he asked Michal, his voice dangerously low. "You have allowed my enemy to escape."

"He—threatened to—kill me," she managed to say, he voice strangled in her throat. A sob escaped her mouth.

Saul struck her across the face, and she fell silent, shivering terribly. She fell to her knees at her father's feet.

"Jonathan, my son," he said, ignoring his daughter. "Come with me."

Jonathan spared a glance at his sister over his shoulder before following Saul outside, into the king's private gardens.

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They walked silently for several minutes before Saul stopped abruptly. Jonathan stopped behind him.

"Sit," Saul ordered. Jonathan sat.

Saul stayed standing, and continued pacing for another minute, not once glancing at Jonathan. Jonathan felt a ball of anxiety tightening in his stomach, and resisted the urge to speak.

"My son," he said finally, still not looking at him. "Why have you done this?"

Jonathan stared at his father, beseeching him to just glance his way. "I don't know what you mean," he said quietly.

Saul raised his voice, waving his arm furiously. His back was still to his son. "You know perfectly well what I mean," he said. "You—perverse—rebellious—man! You can be no son of mine."

Jonathan stared at his feet and felt his face turning red. "Father, I—"

"Do not call me 'Father,'" Saul hissed. "I know very well that you have chosen that—_David_—over any woman."

"_Father_," Jonathan said. "David is a good man. The Lord is with him, you know this. And he has helped you achieve many victories against your enemies the Philistines. _They _are the real enemies, not David."

"He has corrupted my son!" Saul shouted. "At least you are willing to help me kill the Philistines."

"That is because the Philistines have done terrible things!" Jonathan shouted, leaping to his feet and loosing any pretense he might have had. "David is an innocent man!"

Saul glared furiously at his son. "Innocent?"

David stared at the ground. "I have nothing more to say," he said, keeping his voice deliberately calm. "But if God punishes you from this, you have no one to blame but yourself.

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Jonathan thought that perhaps he had made some sort of difference.

Saul continued his hunt for Jonathan, but, he said, he only wanted to bring him back to court. For his own good, he said.

Jonathan wondered at his own calmness. He thought that maybe he should be more worried for his friend; more distrustful of his father. But he did not remember the house this peaceful since he was a small boy; and if it made him selfish to want to see David again, then he thought he must be the most selfish man in the world.

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But when it came right down to it, he was almost _afraid_ to see David again.

He was afraid that maybe he had made the entire thing up. Maybe David _was _the bowlegged, gray-haired monster he'd imagined.

Or worse, maybe he was as perfect as always. Maybe it was all real, and maybe David didn't love him anymore.

He tasted honey and thought of David.

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They finally found David, hiding in a rural village far away from the palace—and Jonathan.

Jonathan saw him as he arrived. There were guards on either side of him, though Jonathan could not even hazard a guess at who they were protecting. And David looked healthier and stronger than Jonathan has ever seen him. His face was sun-browned, and his arms were thick and muscular. His hair was clean and shining.

Jonathan, watching from a window high above the ground, wanted David to look at him. He wanted to be invisible. He was afraid of what he would see.

David looked up and saw him. His face did not change; he did not smile or nod.

But Jonathan saw the way his eyes brightened, and he remembered the solemn way David looked when he played his lyre.

He hummed a song under his breath the rest of the day; and didn't even remember that it was David who wrote it.

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His father had arranged for him to dine with a visiting cousin the night David arrived; out of spite, Jonathan thought.

And so he nodded his head in all the right places; while Jacob gesticulated wildly about campaigns he had fought in and battles he had won.

He would see David tonight.

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When he arrived home, David was waiting for him. He lay on his side in the middle of Jonathan's bed, facing the door. He wore nothing but a gold bracelet on his wrist, and his dark skin and hair contrasted perfectly with Jonathan's white sheets.

"Your father gave this to me," he said calmly as Jonathan entered, twiddling idly with the bracelet. "He said it was part of his apology."

Jonathan felt himself shaking. "David," he said weakly, sinking back against the door.

David finally looked up at Jonathan. His eyes were dark and intense. "I missed you," he said.

Jonathan nodded, and moved to stroke the side of David's face with his thumb. It was soft and warm, and he felt himself memorizing the feel of every pore and hair.

David smiled and kissed him. "Forgive me," he said. "I should not have left without fighting.

He was forgiven.

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They were carefuller this time.

They did not enter rooms together; they did not speak at meals. If Saul was in the room, one of them would quickly leave.

Jonathan thought it would last this time.

It would.

They were so_ careful_.

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David did not speak to Michal much.

Yes, he thanked her for helping him escape.

And yes, he was polite to her when they did happen to meet.

But he did not seek her out—why should he?

Despite the fact that Jonathan knew he would be jealous, he almost wished David would.

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Promises fell out of his mouth faster than he could stop them.

They rolled down his tongue like water and crashed past his lips in waves.

He did not know what he was saying, but he felt it.

He said words that meant forever and only and perfection and beauty.

David listened to them quietly, and Jonathan promised him the world.

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"Where did you stay when you were gone?" Jonathan asked once.

"My mother's sister," he said. "They let me live with them and gave me meals; and I went back to being a shepherd. It was so different."

Jonathan hesitated. "Were you unhappy when we found you?" he asked.

David looked at him seriously. "The only think that stopped me from coming back by myself was the fact that I was afraid you would be angry."

And Jonathan believed him.

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David thought that Saul wanted to kill him again.

But Jonathan thought it was paranoia; it could not be anything other than paranoia. He would not let himself believe anything else.

"I don't understand why he wants to do this to me," David said, his voice anguished. "I haven't done anything wrong, have I?"

Jonathan kept silent.

"I don't believe he would," he finally said quietly. "But I promise to ask him."

This was one he could keep.

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His father was drunk the night he confronted him.

"David thinks you are trying to kill him," he said, trying to keep his voice light-hearted.

Saul tilted his head back and laughed. "Course I am," he said.

Jonathan left, and tried not to hear his father behind him.

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It was a joke; it had to be a joke.

He did not believe his father would do that.

David had only been back for about a month and a half now, and he had been perfect to Saul. There was nothing to object to, yet.

Jonathan would prefer to stay blind.

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Michal saw it, as well.

"You have to do something, Jonathan," she begged him. "Talk to our father, or let David leave. It isn't safe here for him right now."

"You do something if you're so worried," Jonathan said bitterly. "If I talk to Father again, it will only make him hate David more than he already does. And letting David go...Michal, I can't."

"I did," she said fiercely. "I let him go, and then when he came back I let him go again. I _loved him_, Jonathan—but I let him go. If I can do it, surely you can as well."

But Jonathan remembered that when they were younger, she had always been the one to decide which games they played. She was the one who commanded their mother and father's attention; the beautiful one, the brilliant one.

He was the one who followed.

He was not sure he could follow her in this.

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Jonathan was there the day Saul tried, once again, to have David killed.

Saul was a trained warrior, and the spear he flung at David as David made his way through the gardens was swift and straight, and would have pierced his heart.

David threw himself to the ground, and the spear gashed into his arm, splitting skin and muscle and pouring blood onto the dirt.

Jonathan helped him to his feet, and they ran.

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Running with David, Jonathan imagined, was rather like flying.

Neither of them spoke a word to the other, but their tunics brushed together and Jonathan was acutely aware of David's presence beside him.

They stopped in the same breath, in a field outside the city. They had come here before; Jonathan was fond of practicing archery, and David was fond of watching.

Jonathan took David's palm and pressed it to his lips, and held it to his chest. Then he helped David make his way to a stone, and sit on it. He was pale and sweaty, and his arm was sticky with blood.

Jonathan pressed his tunic to it to quench the bleeding, and it stained red instantly. He tore off a strip and tied it just above the wound. David laid on the ground, curled tightly into a ball. Jonathan stroked his forehead and pushed his curls from his face.

Jonathan stoked David's hand with his own, and bent to kiss him. "You can't stay," he said softly. "This can't happen again." It cost him everything he had to force the words out of his throat. He wanted nothing more than to be with David forever. But he meant it. He would rather be David be a hundred miles away and alive than dead because of him.

David shivered, and Jonathan wrapped his arms around him.

"At least..._ask_...your father," David pleaded.

How could anyone say no?

"I'll be back at sunset," Jonathan promised.

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When Jonathan arrived back home, Saul was already properly remorseful.

He bowed his head upon seeing his son. "Forgive me," he said; but it was more an order than a request.

Jonathan felt his stomach curl in disgust. "Will David be safe here?" he asked.

Saul nodded fervently. "It was only an old man's mistake," he said. "And Jonathan, your father _is _growing old. You know—as long as David is here, our line is not secure."

Jonathan nodded. "I know, father," he said.

Saul sighed and clapped his son's shoulder. "We will talk later," he said. "But now, where is David?"

Jonathan felt his fists tighten. He did not believe his father. "He asked me permission to visit his family for the holiday," he said.

Saul nodded. "Well, when he returns, he can dine with me."

Jonathan nodded and hurried to his room. He had to pack some food.

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After he'd filled a pouch with bread and grapes and a wine skin, he tried to sneak out quietly.

Michal, unfortunately, was waiting in the courtyard.

"What's in the pack?" she asked suspiciously.

"Nothing, Michal," he said tiredly. "Don't worry."

Her face was sad. "David's leaving, isn't he?"

He thought that maybe it would be better to lie to her, but he did not have the energy. Instead, he touched her hand and said, "Yes."

"For good, this time?"

He hesitated and bowed his head. "I think so," he said quietly.

She nodded. "You must see him," she said.

Jonathan nodded. "I am," he said. "Now."

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It was about a five mile walk back to David's hiding place, and he was already tired. It was sunset by the time he arrived; pink and orange shafts of light making the air glow. David was standing; which he supposed was a good sign; a black silhouette thrown against the horizon. He was plucking his lyre.

David turned and saw him, and nodded his head in acknowledgment. "I brought you some food," Jonathan said, and they shared a meal in silence. He fed David with his own hands, and felt his chapped lips brush against his knuckles.

"It's your sister," David said suddenly, rising to his feet and knocking a piece of bread into the dirt.

And it was. Michal was about a hundred feet away from them, swaying slightly as she walked.

David hurried towards her, and Jonathan stayed behind. But he could hear some of what was being said.

"I wanted to say goodbye," she said. Her voice trembled. Jonathan turned away; he was not sure he wanted to see.

"I know," David said simply. "I'm glad."

"Listen," she said, "I know you don't care for me, but—David, I love you. And I love my brother as well; and I'm sorry if I've hurt either of you. It never should have come to this."

Jonathan turned back just in time to see David hug her gently. "You are a good woman, Michal," he said, "And you have been a good friend."

She nodded and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Take this," she said, and slipped something off of her finger. "Keep it with you." It was her ring.

She was gone as quickly as she came, without uttering a word to her brother.

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It was completely dark by the time Michal was out of sight. The stars lit up the sky. There was no moon, but Jonathan felt as if he could see forever.

He flung himself on the ground, staring straight up at the sky. David flopped down beside him and kissed him gently. Jonathan ran his fingers through David's soft hair, and pressed his head to David's neck.

"Do you think we shall meet again after tonight?" David asked him finally.

"I don't know," Jonathan said slowly.

"We will," David said fiercely. "I will make it happen."

Jonathan tried his best to believe him. "You are so young, David," he whispered. "I will die before you. Will you care for my family when I am gone? I think Michal needs you."

David laughed. "Of course I will—but you aren't leaving anytime soon," he added, a hint of uncertainty making its way into his voice.

"I love you, David," he said softly. "More than anyone I've ever know. I think you are perfect in every way. I would change nothing about you."

David watched Jonathan solemnly. "I shall never be as happy as I am when I am with you," he said. "You bring joy to my heart that I did not believe possible."

Jonathan touched David's face and found it wet: he was crying. He let out a high, trembling laugh.

"You're crying too," David whispered.

Jonathan kissed him tenderly, and their tears fell into their lips. He held David and David sobbed in his arms; great, body-shaking sobs, and he felt his soul being dashed upon the ground.

They lay together until the sun came up. They kissed again, and David clung to his shoulders. They were both trying to put it off.

Actually watching David leave was the hardest thing Jonathan had ever done. David walked away backwards, and Jonathan was afraid to blink.

Jonathan sank to his knees as David disappeared over the horizon.

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When he returned home later that evening, he found Michal waiting for him at the entryway. She took his hand with hers and held it firmly.

"It'll be okay," she said. "You'll see him again."

She was so serene; so calm as she said it.

Jonathan could not help believing that this one last promise would be kept.

**Chocolate for reviews!**


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